Maybe It Was the Moonshine

Friday, July 03, 2015

So. I've seen some things. Things you wouldn't believe. Things that would sizzle the hair in your belly button. Especially #14.

Mostly plays and a They Might Be Giants concert. Let me see if I can remember the plays: Threesome, Carmina Burana, Big Fish the Musical, Jasper in Deadland, and Outside Mullingar (with a post-play discussion with John Patrick Shanley!).

I changed jobs, but within the same org. I'm more into technical support and business analysis now than tech writing, although that will always have a place in my dark and twisted heart.

I've read a few books on my loooong daily commute. Rothfuss' "The Name of the Wind" and VanderMeer's Southern Reach Trilogy. And Chu's "The Lives of Tao." Only a few years behind now.

I haven't been writing. I think about writing all the time. I need to kill -9 the bloated noggin processes. amirite.

The list of things I haven't been doing is long.

I've been trying to figure out what it means to be me.

Or I never stop, and the figuring gets in the way of the doing. Surprise!

It's been a year since a lot of life changing stuff happened. I've been cutting myself some slack, but at some point there is just too much slack and you have to reel yourself back in or you just get lost in space, endlessly drifting, waiting for a passing ship to throw you a line and refresh your oxygen, completely dependent on the kindness of the Others, that six-limbed collective of hamster robots sponsoring a new porpoise university in the methane sea.

But on the plus side, I am growing some fantastic tomatoes on the deck and some basil in the window. I'll get to eat caprese salad until it oozes out my ears. (No you absolutely cannot use the word orifices there, me.)

Sunday, December 28, 2014

A year ago I was married, I had a house, I was unemployed (beyond getting paid to narrate stories occasionally), I volunteered as the Podcast Manager at Every Day Fiction, and I was hoping to get into Clarion West--a six-week intensive writing workshop. I lived with two cats.

Almost everything that could have been different is now different except, thankfully, my health. My health remains the same. Well, I could stand to lose a few pounds.

At the end of 2014, I find myself divorced from a very nice man. I am dating another very nice man--a vegetarian who made me meatloaf! And it was good! I live in a different county. I no longer have a house. I have a full-time job. I resigned from Every Day Fiction to focus on paid narration work, taught myself to edit/master audio, and now have recorded five audiobooks for sale through Amazon, iTunes, and Audible. I also recorded stories for two of John Joseph Adams' anthologies, and more stories for Beneath Ceaseless Skies. One of my own stories was podcast (a first!) by Tina Connolly at Toasted Cake. I attended the Clarion West Writers Workshop over the summer, met a bunch of fantastic classmates, administrative staff, and instructors, and wrote six short stories in six weeks. I was on my first panel at StoryCon in Portland, OR, as an authority on flash fiction. And I live with a dog, instead of cats.

Basically, 2014 looked like this: Maybe I should learn how to record and master an audiobook? Did I get in to CW? OMG I got in to CW, read all the books to prepare! Record 3 audiobooks before ACX changes its contract! Whoops, my marriage fell apart, what happens now? Find a place to live! Okay, found! CW is very challenging, and now it's done! Move move move all the crap forever! Find a job! Go to court, see a judge, dissolve the marriage! Sign up for retirement plans! Go go go!

Other items of note:

TRAVEL: I went sightseeing in Washington, D.C., after attending World Fantasy Con. Participated in a couple of writing retreats. Strolled through the Hall of Mosses in the Hoh Rain Forest out on the Olympic Peninsula. Saw the Pacific Ocean from a Washington state shore for the first time. Flew out to San Diego, CA, for a couple of days. Explored the Swap Meet. Visited the Mysterious Galaxy bookstore on their last day before moving to a new location. Oh, and I attended the World Horror Convention in sunny Portland, OR. Ate my first Voodoo Donuts, served from the side of a squat pink van.

WRITING: Two of my short stories ("The Man at the End of the Chain" and "Arkquarium") came out in print anthologies. My poem, "Shag," was published online. Wrote and submitted my first ten-minute play in years.

PROMOTION: Had a reading at Norwescon in SeaTac, WA. Whoo!

PHOTOGRAPHY: Shot more author portraits. Sold a few more licenses through my stock photo agency.

READING/LEARNING: I discovered how much I love Jack Vance's fiction. Then spent the first half of the year reading works by the CW instructors. Discovered how fun it is to take classes through the Coursera website.

All that said, I'm not gonna lie. 2014 was hard. (Haaaaarrrrd, so says the whiny pirate). It'll take a while for the dust to settle, but I feel like the changes have been overwhelmingly positive and necessary.

But after a year like this, I'm wary of what 2015 will bring. I hope that I'll be able to wrap up the last of the loose ends from this year. That I'll get back into the rhythm of taking care of myself--both mentally and physically. That I'll figure out how to be less cranky after the 1-2 hour commute home from work. All of that equals my 2015 forecast in a nutshell.

It's been a long time since I've taken myself off auto-pilot and looked around at my situation. This year I'm going to try to get back to basics and think about where I'd like to go next. So far so good. All of these changes were tough to live through, but overwhelmingly positive in the end.

Finally, I leave you with my traditional New Year’s wish to you: May you get everything you desire and only some of what you deserve. Happy nearly 2015.

Saturday, August 09, 2014

Birthdays are one of those deep introspection opportunities for me, and since mine is tomorrow, I guess it's that time again.

A lot has happened during the past year. Most of it in the last six months. Clarion West ended a week ago, which was an amazing exhausting overwhelming encouraging experience. I am moving into a new place. I am making plans to return to the workforce. I started narrating audiobooks. And I sent in my resignation as the Every Day Fiction Podcast Manager--that was a hard decision and I will always be grateful for the experience, but at the end of the day it was a resource issue and something had to give.

Not to get too much more personal, but life is good and bad and in between. Change is change is change. I am just plain grateful to so many people for being a part of my life, and I am grateful to Jeremy for more than I can say here.

So, happy birthday, me. I look forward to seeing where I/me/we end up on the other side of all this crazy.

And so we begin our week of lasts. Last critiques, last provided meals, last hanging out on the couch watching Kurt Russell movies. I have an annoying tendency to become sentimental about events as they're happening, so I'll try not to do that too much more. But even as I'm excited to go back to the real world again, I'm also sad to be leaving this place behind. Already I have one foot in and one foot out and I'm struggling to keep my focus on the present.

Tonight we meet our last instructor, John Crowley. We just said our goodbyes to Charlie Jane Anders.

Only 1 more story left to write. Only 17 more critiques left to deliver.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

I'm sitting at my desk in my room at Clarion West on a Sunday afternoon. After a stretch of hot dry days, the weather has turned cool and I am enjoying a chance to wear jeans again, my old uniform. We're starting our fifth week, which means I only have two stories left to write and up to 34 stories to critique.

Not that I'm counting.

Time is strange. It simultaneously feels as if I've always been here and I've just arrived. The absence of television is probably a factor. The constant nap-taking definitely adds to the disorientation. Not to repeat last week's post too much, but I continue to be in awe of everybody's talent and work ethic and so happy to have been included in this experience. But I can feel the exhaustion tugging at me, the real world reasserting itself, and I am trying to cushion the landing by eating regularly, taking naps, being kind to myself.

Some days I am more successful than others.

Last night I lay in my bunk listening to party sounds from the street--mostly dudebros shouting at each other over terrible pounding music. A young man's voice rose above the din--aggressive, slurred, and slightly desperate. He shouted, "What fucking street is this? How did I get here? Where the fuck am I?"

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Hello, world. We've just passed the half-way point here at the 2014 Clarion West Writers Workshop. It is hot outside for Seattle and I am not used to this stifling heat so I am drinking a cold beer (Obsidian Stout from Deschutes Brewery) and sitting in a basement (have I said too much?) trying to write my fourth week story.

There's a paper cutout of a gray turtle taped to the wall.

There's not much else to say. This is an amazing experience. I am in awe of everything all the time. They're feeding me well. I'm drinking a lot (both alcohol and water). I sleep on the lower bunk of a bunk bed. I brought two fans from home. When I leave I will probably be lonely because there is always somebody doing something and I haven't taken enough advantage of that yet. Later, will the quiet unman me? Stay tuned.

There is a lot of work to do here. Sometimes I nap. Often I nap. Sometimes I feel old and out of touch. I stare off into space. I read crazy wonderful prose and think about why it works and why it doesn't. I formulate opinions and express them. I eat. Things happen. Time contracts, expands. I make a fancy salad.

The hand crank on my window broke off. That is the worst.

So you see, everything is fine. Situation normal. I am working on my third short story out of five, in the basement, with an ice cold bottle of beer and Colonel Mustard. I am surrounded by clever folks. I am possibly going mad.